


Trustfall

by Lokei



Category: King Arthur (2004)
Genre: F/M, Implied Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-01-09
Updated: 2007-01-09
Packaged: 2017-10-19 02:26:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/195820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lokei/pseuds/Lokei
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I’m not impressed by your instinct for self-preservation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trustfall

“You don’t trust me.”

It is an incongruous statement for the situation, Lancelot thinks, as she traces lazy circles on his bare chest, fingers following the tracks her lips had forged across his skin minutes before. Nevertheless, it is true, and so he says nothing, but merely quirks those expressive eyebrows in an insolent smirk that has nothing to do with true happiness.

“Why take to bed a woman you don’t trust?” she perseveres, arching her own brows in that irritating superior manner which makes him want to kiss it or swipe it away, equally. Her fingers dance across the irregular circle of marks left by her teeth in his shoulder. “It can hardly be your much vaunted instinct for self-preservation.”

His hand traps hers where it lingers, long fingers clamping down on fragile ones, just as his gaze pins her where she lies without need of any further restraint. “If I keep you with me, I know where you are,” he growls, intending that to be an end to the matter.

He realizes next that he ought to know by now that what he intends has very little to do with the way things actually happen, and so when she props herself up on one elbow he closes his eyes.

“So you keep me nearby to keep me out of trouble?” Even without looking at her Lancelot can see the mockery that stretches those open lips, that provokes betrayal from his own treacherous mouth.

“If you’re with me, you’re not with—“ he stops himself, a barely discernible pause that she is bound to catch, just as she catches the ghosting of his breath. “Anyone else,” he finishes, eyes daring her to contradict him.

She dares, of course. “Not with Arthur?” The soft huff of her laughter tickles his eyelashes. “Not self-preservation, then.”

He cracks an eye open to glare at her balefully and she smiles with a hint of secret delight.

“I’m honored that you find me so dangerous,” she whispers in his ear, and then with a rustle of cloth she is gone, and Lancelot is no nearer sleep than he has been in years.

He doesn’t trust himself not to dream.


End file.
